Updated: Jun 24, 2024
A faint light spills
beneath your door,
A sonata
fills the air,
Your soft eyes:
contemplative,
numbed fingers
touch the chair.
Truth was no friend
when it revealed
That words masked what
I could not feel.
You own the smile that softens time,
Could words have worked, that smile was mine.
Formless, I drift on a caravan of memories. Timeless, I wait for the present to take form. Shadowed shapes surround me. Drawn to the...
The bright shining light of a morning sun falls upon her shoulders. She coaxes greens and dandelion from the springtime garden. The...
Sissy stands in ankle-high grass, her back to the hill, her arms raised regally above her chestnut hair. Down-field, by the creek, her...
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